


Please Touch Me

by JellyFicsnFucks



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Blood Loss, Developing Relationship, Loneliness, M/M, Major Character Death tag is there bc Genos is half dead- no actual death in here., Oh...also death of all monsters. lol its Genocide timeline but thats just the past., Pain, Slow Burn, Suicide Attempt, Undertale Genocide Route, Well...except death the character lol, ngl this may be depressing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:55:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27195431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JellyFicsnFucks/pseuds/JellyFicsnFucks
Summary: Sans just watched his timeline get destroyed. He just fought Chara and lost. In his last seconds of consciousness he teleports somewhere and gets stuck on the start screen. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting for Death... And then they meet.But Sans never expected Death to be real. Or have his face. Or have an awful attachment to handholding for some reason. Guess he'll just roll with it until he can get a good ending.
Relationships: Relationship : AfterDeath, Relationship: Sans (Genos) + Sans (Reaper), Sans/Sans (Undertale)
Comments: 49
Kudos: 130





	1. Start (screen)

On the plateau of the finite void… The start screen....

The beginning and end of all things...

The empty black abyss where only a patch of grass remained and a hovering save file which remained intangible...

Sat a lonely skeleton, on the brink of falling down. 

This was new to him. 

This was _all_ new to him. 

Moments ago, he’d just seen his brother killed in front of him. He’d seen his entire town tortured and shredded to dust. He’d watched as monster after monster was slain by a person he once thought of as a friend. 

He’d judged the human. Fought them. ...and failed. 

Miserably failed. 

Yet somehow, in the brief left-over haze of consciousness and blood loss, Sans managed to make one more teleport. His aim was meant to go back home. Back to where he laid Papyrus to rest. It would be fitting to dust next to his brothers. It would be his final ritual to spread his own dust over the person he loved most. His dear little brother. 

...instead he ended up here. 

In the black abyss. 

Sans shuddered out a gasp. Then a scream. Clawing at his chest where the blade had cleaved through his ribs and shattered his soul. Or at least, he thought it did. The flicker of light from his soul was dim. A huge crack ran up it's side to strike thousands of fractures across it's surface. It looked like a boiled egg- with the shell still on. Somehow holding it's form, even though jagged fragments were splintering off it's sides. 

It was tormenting. It was anguish. It was the unending horrid nightmare of trying to pull a hangnail off your finger. But this wasn't just a splinter. It was his life. Struggling as he might, Sans didn’t have it in him to deal the final blow. His soul was shattered but Sans was somehow alive. Breathing. Crying. 

This place existed outside of the world. Outside of existence. Time passed, but did it really? He bled on the grassy floor and stared up at the single beacon of light that read “Continue” but he couldn’t touch it at all. His hand passed through the ominous floating text. His attacks, puny under the strain of his death, wouldn’t even knock it over. It was just a false beacon of hope. A taunt. 

He realized this must be something the human used. A room that existed within code. He realized that this start up screen was not meant for him. He realized that the human had grown bored after killing him. They weren’t going to restart and reset again. They weren’t going to continue. Sans wouldn't be reset to waking up in bed, vivid real nightmares plaguing his sleep that now he knew were real. He was stuck and being here was just a fluke. A cosmic joke that somehow, at the end of his life, he could see the very thing that caused his endless nightmares. 

So here he laid. Just Sans and the text above the mantle of grass. Alive or dead, he’d just be a skeleton rotting in the soil. Still bleeding. Still dying. … and yet that final breath never came. 

Sans sobbed and fell to his knees. He fell to his stomach and ripped out the grass in big clumpy handfuls of snot and blood. But it was no use. The grass just glitched back to normal. Nothing here had any affect. Somehow, he’d accidentally teleported to a place to escape dieing… and now he was fucking stuck here. He couldn't leave. His teleports blipped him back to the exact same spot no matter where he tried to port. He was alive, but what was the use of living if _Papyrus_ wasn’t here? If his _friends_ were all dead? If his whole world was just some… **_game_ **?!

He couldn’t teleport out… but there was one way to leave. A cowardly laugh escaped his nasal cavity when he realized. Hysterics and a bone shard summoned to his hand. He whimpered and laughed and sobbed. Wanting to end everything. Wanting that fresh reset. Clinging to that hope that Papyrus would be back if he did this. And even if he didn’t… even if Sans dusted right here, it would be better than just- suffering a moment longer. It would be better than bleeding out in eternity. His hand shook as he plunged the bone shard through his soul. 

…

…

…

…

  
  
…. But nothing happened. 

Sans looked down at his soul. At the transparent flickering dim light that wouldnt be extinguished even with a femur stuck through it's center. He was alive.

… he could cry. 

How could he be alive? 

Why wasnt this over?

Everything hurt. 

He wiped at his eye sockets full of tears. Everything hurt. He was bleeding all over the place and the gash in his chest sprang forth blood like an unending well. Why was he here?! Why couldn't he die? What was he -??

..!!!!

He suddenly he sees that forlorn cloak of a reaper. It's a match set like in storybooks. The scythe. The black ghostly cloak. The icy chill in the air. The boney skeletal hands of death… 

Those fairytales were real! He could hardly breathe. Death had come for him. Literally. Sans held back a chortle of fear from spilling out over into a scream. But from that restraint a nervous, terrified, chuckle escaped through his mouth. He laughed. Not the hysterical wheeze of trying to end his life, but a genuine laugh. A lighthearted crying snot filled laugh, knowing that truely, _finally,_ this was the end. This was his last moment. This was how his adventure just… stopped. 

No happy endings. No brother. No sunlight. No surface… just...-

 **_Death_ **. 

Sans closed his eyes and truly expected for the end. For a brief and final pain to end it all. For the relief of this pain aching through his ribs to end… 

...but instead he was poked with the wrong end of the scythe. The dull stick hit him on the shoulder and Sans had mumbled a small ‘ow’ under his breath. That didn’t hurt at all compared to the bleeding gash… but the poke was not what he expected. He reopened his eyes and stared up the long stick, to its holder. Staring death in the eye. 

A skeleton… yes, just like the stories said. The undead figure was the harbinger between this world and the next. But this wasn’t just any skeleton monster it was… _himself_. 

Sans saw his own eyes on that face. He saw his own cheekbones. Saw his own features reflected in the rather short and chubby looking death god. Sans raised a curious boney eyebrow as he stared at his own reflection in the grim reappear. Only to be, once again, prodded with the end of the stick. 

_“... still alive eh?”_

Sans gulped. He took a look down at himself and the seemingly unending splotch of blood leaking over his shirt. 

_“Welp, this’a pickle aint it.”_ Death laughed. _“I could kill ya now with a simple touch… put ya out your misery… but Tori would be pretty mad at me if I interfered again. Guess we’ll just wait for the natural end, huh? Weird… guess I came a bit too soon…. And you look like you can hear me…?”_

Sans nodded. 

_“... doing that thing with your head. Almost like… you can see me?”_

Sans nodded, eyebrows knitted in confusion. He’d muster up a joke if he could at the dubious twin, but he didn’t have the _guts_ . Heh. Well, _that_ and speaking right now felt incredibly painful under the fractured rib cage. Sans could wheeze a laugh and sob in pain, but opening his jaw to squeeze out a sound of anything other than a high pitched whale seemed too exhausting right now. 

He was too confused to even think of a question. This was another him… and it sounded like theres another Tori too? Was he really a god of death? Maybe he bled out too much and was hallucinating… This certainly seemed unrealistic. 

_“Hmm… that's weird, usually only souls can see me. But you still have a fraction of health flickering there. Still alive… not quite dead.”_ Death tut his teeth together. The solid click of bone made Sans flinch slightly. He shook on the spot as this Grimm Reaper looked him up and down. 

Death put a hand to his chin, thinking of what to do next. _“Mind if I sit?”_


	2. Chapter 2

Sans wasn’t quite comfortable with the  _ grimm _ silence sitting next to him. He waited for a bit wondering if the guy would talk again… but nothing. Rather than a swift end, the reaper was waiting quite patiently for Sans to fall down. So was Sans, but he wasn't exactly feeling hopeless right now with the embodiment of death a foot away from him. 

If there was a Death- _ if he was real and not some hallucination or cruel joke- _ then that meant there was some afterlife… and he’d meet Pap again. If he was a fake… well. This guy got  _ in  _ here somehow, that meant there was a way  _ out _ . Sans felt that glimmer of hope surge through his shattered soul. A lil hp fills … and drains from the broken vessel.

“Hwwwhh?” He felt the words squeeze from his throat in a raspy breath. The syllabic sound echoed violently against his ribs. He held his chest through the shirt, hoping to hold himself together again and ask correctly. “How?.” _ Great start. One word _ . Sans hissed a breath. He could do this. “Did. you?” He felt all the wind pushed out of him. Another word and he might -  _ yup _ . He was coughing up blood now. That strange metallic taste filled his mouth and he opened his lower jaw lazily to let the blood drip out. Spillt down his chin like drool and dotted the grassy plain beneath him. 

_ “Heh. Gross.”  _ The god chuckled. _ “Guess that last blow cut through more than just your soul.”  _ Sans rolled his eyes. He already knew that, thanks. 

“How. Did. you. Get?... heeiire?” Sans tried again, wheezing out the words with stress. 

_ “Me? Oh, I just pop in when someone dies~. It’s my job to know when that is. Heh. Guess I came a bit early. You're not quite ripe for the picking yet.” _

Sans didn’t feel at all relieved by that. He’d tried escaping many times. Walking to the ends of this realm, only to loop back. Teleporting out only to glitch in space. If he believed him… then this Reaper would know his future. He  _ is  _ going to die, just not  _ now _ . That tiny hope in his heart felt a bit extinguished. But there are still things he wants for his last wishes. Maybe this guy, a god wearing his face, could at least… help him? 

“I...want… to… see… Pap..Pap..eye…. Rus..” Sans felt physically exhausted, finally having said that. Even sucking up the air he’d lost felt like a fresh burn through his ribs. He gripped the scarf around his neck. It still smelled like him. Still smelled like pasta sauce and cinnamon. Would Papyrus be waiting for him on the other side? 

Sans was so tired… he missed his brother. 

_ “Papyrus?”  _ The god repeats deep in thought, nevermind that he has Sans’s face, he copies Sans’s mannerisms as well.  _ “Nnn… guess we could take a quick detour before you bite the dust. Heh.”  _

Sans’s eyelights glimmered with a bit of hope.  _ Really? He could see Papyrus again? No fooling?  _ The death god stands and before him opens up a portal. Gray and black swirls of elemental mist form it's outer ring and the inside looks like clear water. Light suddenly shines in from the small doorway. Sans covers his eyes, shielding them from the bright light until they start to adjust. 

There is an image of a garden on the other side. There is blue sky, fluffy white clouds, and flowers of every vibrant color. Sans stood in awe. Guess this guy was the real deal after all. 

Death takes a step through, stops and turns halfway through the door. “ _ Oh. I shouldn’t have to tell you this, but-  _ **_Dont even think of running away pal_ ** _. You're time's up. You’re dead. Nothing is going to change that.”  _

Sans gulps. Making a small nod. “I… just…. Want… to..” It hurt. It hurts. “To see Paps.” He bends over at the middle, puking up more blood. It doesn't seem to end. He groans. 

The Reaper nods, trusting him to keep his word. "Cmon, step on over and it'll stop hurting." He lifts his feet up and hovers over on to the other side of the portal. Sans feels physically ill but he stumbles through the doorway. It closes promptly behind him, locking away the darkness and enveloping him in bright bright sunlight. 

There's  _ sun  _ here. He never thought he'd see it again. The sun was huge actually. There were birds… and clouds. Really close… poofy clouds.??

Sans feels the pain from his gash start to numb. He removes his hand to find the smear of blood over his palm. He rubs it on his pant leg and stands up straight. Looking around. 

This was a garden, but… in the sky. Little coral rocks lined the outside pathway and the perimeter is guarded by an endless ocean of clouds. Somehow there was plumbing here, because a fountain stood beautifully in the middle of the flower beds. Trickling down each layer to water the next area of plants. 

There were beautiful flowers he'd never seen before here. Deep hues of colours he never dreamed of seeing in Snowdin. The petals of one flower were spotted like tiny freckles another had a droopy appearance of a heart. Small butterflies danced around in the air and made a home among the field.

But next to Death, the grass had turned black. The flowers shriveled up and looked charred. The flowers had withered and twisted on themselves like all the water had been squeezed out of it. Flaking away like death itself. The god is quick to jump on the seashell path, a last minute addition, seemingly made just for him.

"Sans! You ruined my flowers agai-!!"

Hearing his name, Sans spun quickly. He recognized that voice. That was a voice he'd never thought he'd hear again, not since the kid emerged from the ruins, dust clinging to their clothes. Tori. 

His eyes settle on the goat monster but it's unlike anything he ever expected from the ex queen. Granted, he hadn't seen her in years since she locked herself away in those ruins, but this version of Tori was far more regal than the queen. 

The dress she wore seemed like it was hovering around her. It floated like pure sunlight and blinded Sans to stare at it. Her fur was so white. And he bet it was fluffy too… tho he'd never tell her that. Her eyes were the most brilliant gemstones, shining impossibly bright. 

_ "Sup, Life." _ Death says. 

" Sans you cant be bringing every lost soul this way. "

Sans looks at him, unsure what he just heard. Tori? Life? Was this the goddess of life?! Sans shook his head. This was all. A bit weird why did death also have his name?. Why was his own face death and life was Tori? 

Maybe… since they were gods, they were taking the faces of some people he was familiar with. Yeh. That sounded about right. Sans was a judge… so who else to judge his actions in death than himself. And Tori? Well Sans always imagined her as a caretaker .. a kind hearted woman. So of course his subconscious would make her part of this fantasy dream. 

Yep. That's all this was. A small hallucination as he bleeds out to death. 

Unless… it real? 

But that couldn't be true …. Death was a fairytale. And the monster standing … er…. Floating before him hadnt reaped his soul. This was simply a delusion. Sans nodded. Yep.yep . 

While Sans was lost in his own panicking thoughts, doubting whether or not this was real, he didn't hear what Death and Life were discussing. He only caught the tail end of their conversation. 

_ "Don't worry, it wont. I'm just taking him to Paps so he can pass peacefully." _

"... Fine, fine. I trust your judgement."

The reaper glints a little toothy smile. Waggling his finger for Sans to come near. Though not too close. The death god makes clear to force a distance by booping him with the blunt end of his scythe. 

He walks Sans through the fantastic world of the gods. Strangely enough, they all wore the faces of people he knew. He saw Alphys, Undyne, Asgore… even the face of Gaster reflected in one of them. To see his old friends in this alternate world was unsettling, and yet brought a smile to his face. But when Sans met with Death’s brother, he was caught off guard. 

Papyrus _.  _ A  _ different  _ Papyrus- was here and alive. He tried to keep in mind it wasn't him but he couldn’t help as silent tears rolled down his face. He cleared his throat and introduced himself as if it was the first time. As if he didn’t already know his name. 

And Papyrus smiled with a glow from a thousand sunlit-fires. It sparked a flame of joy in his half dead soul. He wished he could hug him. He wished it was his own Papyrus, so that he could tell him how much he’s missed him. How much he loves him. 

After seeing Sans on the verge of tears, Death supposed it was time for him to go home. 

He opened the portal to head back to his side of the multiverse and stood quietly beside it. Waiting for Sans to step through the gate so he could close it. 

“Thanks for bringing me here.” Sans wiped his eyes. “I’m glad I got to see Paps… a version of Paps, one last time.” 

_ “Yeah.” _ Death sighed. He avoided eye contact, staring instead at the bleeding gash that soaked through the others clothes. He peered through the monster's soul to see his status. The single digit of health was still flickering. 

By tomorrow, the skeleton would probably bleed out and finally fall down. They all did. 

He always had such a short encounter with the living. At the very least, he could make his last moments comfortable.  _ “Would you like Papyrus to come for you when your time ends?” _ There's no hesitation in Deaths voice, the touchy subject of death is quite common for him.

Sans gulps. “...you mean. This isn't it? The end?  _ My  _ end?”

_ “...No.” _ Death looks away again. He can’t exactly reap someone who isn’t dead.  _ “I cannot take a living soul. And your soul is still intact. It's not uncommon for monsters to cling to the very edge of life. Sometimes… a soul needs a bit of relief before they can rest. Lingering regrets. I brought you here to see him. That's all.” _

“...Thanks.” Sans sniffles. “But... going back… I’ll die right?” 

_ “Yes. Mortal time stops in this place. But returning to your own world will resume that countdown on your life. However, your soul should be satisfied after seeing your brother, I promise it will be easier for you to fall down. If you like, I can arrange for Papyrus to come get you.”  _

“Oh.” Sans gulps, his hands subconsciously wring the edges of his red scarf. “I’m glad to see Papyrus… but I don't want… um…  _ your  _ brother to come collect my soul. It would be too …” He chokes up, swallowing the thick metallic taste of blood in his mouth. “...pathetically sad. Heh. I might cry again.” 

Sans stared at the doorway. His little island of flowers was on the opposite side of that door. That's where he was going to die, on that lonely little island. He’d thought about that many times before, yet since meeting with Death his silent world had just the tiniest flicker of hope. His depression waiting for death disappeared when Death came to visit him. Weirdly enough… the company of the reaper was, well, comforting. “...Could you come for me? When I die?” 

_ “... alright.”  _ Death nods. _ “See you tomorrow then.”  _

“Tomorrow?”

_ “I’m off duty after this.”  _

“What? Heh. Death goes on break?”

_ “That's why there's two reapers here afterall. I need my sleep too, bud.And you, you need your eternal rest.”  _

“...oh right.” sans stares at the void. He takes a step forward, knowing maybe this time he would die for real. It would be a relief. He longs for it. He longs to be with his brother again.

_ “Try to sleep. I hear falling down while dreaming is peaceful.” _ Death taps his foot, keeping his distance, trying to compel this poor soul to return back to the emptiness so his proper death can occur. Convincing him to walk out of the safety of the gods domain straight back to the hell of mortal coil.  _ “And I’ll be here tomorrow to come guide your soul.”  _

“Heh. it's a date.” Sans laughs as he steps through. The gate closes behind him. Sealing him back in the darkness. The empty void. Pain floods back to his senses and he feels his soul quiver with a pulse of blood through its center again. He spits up blood, walking back to the oval shaped patch of grass and kneels down. Gently curling into a ball. He unwraps Papyrus scarf from his neck and cuddles it to his chest. Squeezing tight like his baby bro was still in his arms. 

He coughs again, blood speckling the grass like morning dew. It's nothing as beautiful as the flowers he’d just seen, but his imagination makes the dots of blood into roses. He closes his eyes and tries to dream. Tries to sleep. 

He thinks of home. 

He thinks of his friends. 

He thinks of Papyrus. 

He closes his eyes…. And at last… falls into a dreamless sleep. 

  
  


…

  
  
  


…


	3. Chapter 3

…

  
  
…

  
  


He wakes up to a gentle tap against his shoulder. 

Death is looming above him. Poking him with the blunt end of his scythe again. Using the long stick to touch the living. Sans looks up, rubbs at his eyes. 

Was it time?

Time to go? 

He looks at that sharp blade over Deaths shoulder. Would he use that to do the job? A violent end? _ “Good morning... still bleeding huh?” _ The reaper sighs. _ “Did you sleep well, at least?” _

Sans pushed up from the ground and looked at his own face reflected in Deaths. He wasn’t in the mood for small talk. He’d hope he’d pass away in his sleep… but if this was the way he was going to die, he was fine with that too. Welcomed it eagerly. Sans got to his knees “I’m ready.” Sans whispers and kneels. He bows his head to the ground, not wanting to see the moment the scythe strikes. “Please do it quickly.”

The reaper tuts his teeth. “ _ Do what? _ ” 

Sans snaps his head up so fast he might have gotten whip-lash. Is this god of Death playing games with him?? What else would he do?! “What?” Sans whispers, not because he wants to, but because anything louder than that hurts his chest. “To kill me of course.” 

“Nah.  _ You’re still alive” _ The reaper says.  _ “I’m not supposed to kill the living. I just guide the souls.”  _

“But that scythe!  _ nng _ !” He grabs his chest, something snapped when he raised his voice so high. Pain radiated from his ribs outward. “It’s your job… to reap me. Right?”

_ “The scythe… No, it's more for … tradition. I wouldn't kill you with this pal. That's barbaric. It only takes a touch to actually kill-” _

“Then touch me!” Sans begs. “Please.” He shudders out a breath. Blood squirts out from his clenched jaw and drips down his chin. “Please. It hurts.” 

This place without wind or light seems eerily still in the dark. The ever present dim glow of text above them is like a lamp, waning in the distance high above the grass bed. The skeleton is on his knees, begging for death. Standing above him is Death, scythe in hand, yet denies him this one wish. 

The god kneels down across from the skeleton. His eyes exam the shattered soul quickly. That flicker of health, that refuses to die. He looks at the gash of blood running down his clothes. He looks at the tightly sound scarf in his fists. He looks at the tears streaming down the monsters face as he begs, ‘please’ for his own end. 

Reaper tuts his teeth.  _ “I can’t.” _ He says. 

At first, there's so much noise in his head hes not sure what to make of that answer. The wheezing of his own breath. The bone tingling numbness returning to his extremities. The flow of blood gushing inside his skull. Sans grips hard at the scarf wound up in his hands. Holds it like a security blanket, close to his chest. 

His eye lights fade from his sunken eye sockets as all hope drains from his body and he stares at the blankness inside his skull. "...what?" His voice is much too weak.

" _ I can't."  _ Reaper says again. " _ Killing you before your time is up, is against the rules. Not to mention extremely painful." _

_ " _ Painful?" Sans's mouth twitches. The audacity of it warping the edges of his smile. " **Painful** ?!" He says again. Louder. "Every  _ breath  _ I take is  **painful** ! Every time I  _ speak  _ is  **painful** !  **Everytime** I look at his scarf~ **it's** !! What do  **you** know about  **painful** ?!" He raises his voice against the god, tears welling up in his eyes. "I want to see Paps again! I want to see my friends again! Just let me pass on already! I’m in enough  **pain** ! I just want it to  **stop** !!  **_Make it stop_ ** !" He throws the only thing he can at Reaper. Paps scarf.

It flops past him. Missing, of course, but lands with a grossly wet splurt rather than the airy cotton fluttering by. It makes Reaper… curious. He bends to pick it up. Examines it in his hands. While he cant touch the living, objects like this were fine. HIs pale fingers are immediately covered in the crimson ink just by holding the fabric. He stares in awe. The red cloth is soaked all the way through with blood, hiding it's secrets well. 

The skeleton with him is sobbing now. Hysterical hiccups and coughs make the dead silence so much more dreadful. Sans claws at his eyes to wipe away the tears, but it just smears his blood stained hands against his cheek. 

Reaper has no words of solace for him. What could he say? Sorry you're dying? He's never been good with the mortals. Usually the souls he reaped would beg him for more time. They would plea and bargain and try to weasel out of death anyway they could. ...but this one was different. He was actually begging for death and the sweet relief of nothingness. Reaper felt conflicted about it. Miserable really. 

He picks up the scarf between a thumb and index finger, holding it far out away from himself. Even the lightest squeeze is enough to make the drip of blood flow down his arm. The excessive amount was absorbed like a sponge inside the wooly artifact. Reaper tuts his teeth and gives the fabric a good two handed squeeze, wringing it of the thick molasses-like ooze. This much blood was ridiculous. 

In seconds it makes a viscous puddle by his feet and splashes at his bare toes. Normally he’d hover, but there was something awfully humbling about being on solid ground. Or … at least whatever this black void had for ground. His toes wriggle in the blood. It stains the bottom of his soles with the sticky tar. This was all from one monster? Death stared at the damp scarf, then to the monster whose blood was profusely dripping down that gash. 

That fatal wound was  _ still  _ bleeding, even though a whole day had passed. The monster's soul was  _ still  _ beating though it had no more health. Reaper had thought maybe the only thing tying him to this world was unfinished business. He’d hoped if he saw Papyrus and got some rest, he’d fall down gently in his sleep. It had worked for others. 

His eyelights focus on the crying mess on the floor. He wasn’t like others. He wasn’t trying to cheat death. He was actively searching for it. Begging for it. Tortured by his own will to live. 

Reaper quietly kneels at Sans’s side. He takes a deep sigh, watching the skeleton hiccup and cough uncontrollably. It looks like every undulation cracks and chips at his ribs. Reaper felt a pang of … what? … sympathy? Towards this mortal. He wasn’t sure why now he was feeling this. He’d met many multiverse copies with his own face. But… this felt different. It certainly was the longest he’d ever been on a job. 

He places his scythe down. It makes a soft click as it meets what could be considered ground in this blank space. Maybe it just floats. Reaper isn’t sure. When he looks back, that bright sienna colored puddle of blood is already gone. Reset. Nothing was left of it except the gods half shappen footprints and those too, were fading away. 

This world was depressing and empty. And the only monster left here was suffering.

Reaper folds up the tattered damp scarf..  _ “...okay.”  _ He whispers. With a gulp he looks at the skeleton again, tring to meet his eyes.  _ “...you deserve a good ending, pal.” _ It’s not the first time he’s broken the rules anyway… he’s sure to get a scolding. But that was better than watching for another moment this monster suffer in agony. He extends his hand towards Sans. 

Still crying, Sans hardly sees it. Everything his blurry and his eyesight isn't so good. For a moment, he swears he can see numbers at the corner of his vision. Sans rubs at his eyes, and finally sets his sights on the god. Looking at the reaper who extends a skeletal claw towards him.  _ “...you deserve a good ending, pal.”  _ Those words are a cruel irony for Sans. 

This wasn't the sunlit dawn of a new day. This wasn’t the peace that comes from sitting with Pap at the kitchen table, a cup of hot coffee in his hands. This wasn’t even the lazy saturday noon when he got to sleep in and relax. This was just… horrible blank void… death looming over him. How was this a  _ good _ ending in the slightest? 

But he doesn't feel fear. When he looks at the Reaper he sees the black wisps of his robe flutter around him, almost like black wings. In his lap, is Paps scarf, folded neatly like fresh laundry. 

“...Just a touch?” He looks down at the offered palm. It's stained in his blood. 

_ “Yeah…” _ Reaper whispers.  _ “...it’ll be quick.”  _ The God's voice was so gentle, so forlorn and far away… Sans felt his frustration melt at once. He felt that same honesty and trust from Papyrus or a friend. He reached for it. 

Hesitant. Shaking. Willing. Eager. 

His hand hovered over Reapers. Just inches away he could feel the ebb of coldness from the monster. Like even the life in the air was being drained around him. He held his breath and touched his fingers to Deaths. Matching their palms, having his hand squeezed in a tight, yet comforting final handshake farewell. 

...Reaper offers a small sympathetic smile.  _ “It’ll be okay.” _ He whispers.  _ “Just give in to sleep.” _

Sans nods. Closes his eyes. Waits. 

And waits. 

And waits…. 

He peeks open an eyelight, wondering if he is still here. But he is. He catches an ounce of expression on the God's passive face. Confusion? Sans wonders why that look is mirrored on the gods face. The bony eyebrow thrown up in confusion as their prolonged handshake started to become… a bit awkward. 

Was his hand sweaty? That dampness of blood kind made it sticky. Not that he should complain, it was his own blood after all. Was death usually this slow? Was he already a ghost or something? No? … Everything still hurts. Sans checked his own status, disappointed by what he found as a pulse. 

“...um?” He wipes at his tears again, still feeling the left over wet drip down his chin. Those frustrated tears made his eye sockets feel awfully droopy. Exhausted. Was this the feeling of death? Was he supposed to give into this tiredness? Sans pondered about it. Closing his eyes again. Trying to nod into some sort of sleep that wouldn’t come. Uncomfortably, he opened his eyes again. Staring at the nervous and sweaty god. 

Those expressions were becoming far more vivid on his face now. The Reaper’s eyes were little pupils. Dots, that kinda stared down at their intense handshake like it was some sort of taboo. . His mouth is pursed, and his jaw is tight. His skull is covered in tiny beads of sweaty nerves. The god blinks dumbly. Squeezing his hand. 

“Ow.” Sans feels his knuckles clack against the tight grip. 

“ _... That hurt?” _ Reapers eyes flick towards him. Those white iris are filled with a low glow of color. A sapphire eyelight turns towards him. Inquisitive. Wondrous. Completely taken in by him. 

Sans gulps. He hasn’t known the guy for long, only a day and a half, but the sudden expressions from the Reaper seem like something out of place. Rare for him. He looks like a kid discovering gyftmas for the first time. He looks completely captivated and taken in by the magic of the holiday of lies.  _ “...What are you feeling?!”  _

Sans pauses to think about it. His soul ached. He felt sickly. His eyes hurt a little. Felt itchy. He wanted to curl up and cry. But he was trying really hard to endure this visit. “...um…same? Is something supposed to happen or…?” He wanted to pull his hand away but death’s other hand came on top of his. Closing them in. Cupping Sans’s hand in his own as though he were a precious little butterfly he’d caught. 

“Wow.” Reaper whispers, starry eyed and full of emotion for the first time in eons. His hands are trembling. “You’re warm…” 


	4. Chapter 4

Reaper held his hand so tenderly. Terrified of breaking his new treasure. This was the first time he had ever held something  _ alive _ . Something that was distinctly warm and dare he say…  _ soft _ ? 

His cheeks glew with an icy cool color. These emotions welling up inside him were… raw. Something he’d tapped into very few times. A feeling he’d thought was long gone. Dead inside himself. A feeling of …what? Hope? Light? 

Those boney fingers tapped against his own. The tactile sensation making him giddy. Hopeful. He let go of the hand, nervously exploring what he could see. Sliding his touch up the wrist and feeling his arm. The ulna. The radius. The smoothness of gliding his fingers across it as though he were a porcelain doll. But real. The small bumps and imperfections are proof this was someone real.

“Um… What are you doing?” Sans pulls his arm back and becomes just the slightest distrustful. “I thought this would be over quick?” 

Reaper clenches the air, drawing his hands back to himself in a quiet stupor _. “...I thought so too.” _ He whispers. He can't believe this. He can touch them.  _ He can touch them _ ! Why-  _ how  _ was this  _ possible _ ? He thought the only people he could touch were other Gods and spirits. He grips his own fingertips together awkwardly. Longing for that heat again on his bones. He didn’t want to seem too eager for it, but when would he ever get this chance again?  _ “Maybe we should try again…” _

“Forget it.” Sans turns away with a huff. “You can't help me. So just… leave me alone.” He sits on his little island of grass, back turned to death. 

It's insulting that this mortal thinks he can just turn around and ignore Death like he wasn't here. 

But, in light of everything that happened to him, Sans could care less about the Reaper. He had nothing to be afraid of anymore. He had nothing precious to him anymore. No one to protect, no home to go to. He just wanted to sit here until everything stopped. His lethargy getting the better of him, he sunk to his side and let out a small whimper as his ribcage collapsed under his weight. 

Reaper felt really uncomfortable about this. Talking to a monsters back, for one, was not the respect the god usually got. Many a monster would grovel at his feet. Not this. It was also incredibly rude. …and…  _ depressing _ . 

The shunned silence washed over him. Was he really incapable of doing his  _ one  _ job? Was there nothing he could do to help this lost soul? The sliver of hope Death granted by simply being here was squashed and now the skeleton was completely empty. Giving into the pure emptiness. What… could he do? Why were mortals so dramatic? How the heck was he supposed to console someone still alive?  _ “o...kay?”  _ Reaper swallowed hard.  _ “I’ll just… go?”  _ There was no response. 

Reaper waited a while. Touching his fingertips together, unsure what to do with his hands now. That warmth was still on his bones. It felt… nice. Reaper was still unsure what that touch was. He felt strange about it. Even after saying he’d leave. He stayed a while longer looking at the monsters back. 

He felt curious about the skeleton. Who was he? What was his life like before - well- this? Reaper stared out at him, trying to get clues about him. As ridiculous as it was, he really was captivated by this mortal. He wanted to touch them again, hoping it wasn't a fluke. He looks at the tattered scarf in his lap.    


It is an article of winter apparel meant for his little brother Papyrus. Reaper had seen this scarf on many other multiverse copies, but this one was so wrung and frayed he might assume it belonged to a Fell verse. But the flat teeth and blue sweater he wore were clearly not from that world. Simply, the wounded Sans had dug his hands in the fabric so often it was stretched out and tearing apart.    


Reaper noticed this Sans had sneakers rather than slippers. A fighter? Or a runner? It's a trait indicative of a genocide timeline. That made sense, he said earlier he wanted to see his brother and friends again. But… they couldn't all be dead. Were they? ...Reaper didn’t remember a mass au genocide lately.    
  
And what was the deal with this… . _ place _ ? Could it be called a place? It was both every where and nowhere. The void continued endlessly, in a small little room no bigger than bedroom. This place seemed to break all logic and reason. If not for the patch of grass, as a beacon he might get lost walking in one direction forever, not realizing that this space looped in on itself. 

Where was… the actual au here? ...Reaper started to wonder about that. Where was Snowdin? Where was Hotland? The Core? New Home? … where in the world did this room exist? How did it exist? Well he knew how. He knew this was the start screen. He’d just never encountered something so … unique before. When the creators made his world to balance others, he’d known there were some aus that were free from the resets and others stuck in the video game mechanic loops endlessly. This one seemed to be broken. A combo of both. Stuck. An  _ error _ ? 

Reaper clears his throat. Feeling awkward about lingering so long. The silence was usually part of his job but … heck this was tortue. He wanted to know more. “Um…” He really had nothing to talk about. How did mortals make small talk? What useless trivial task could he bring up to ease his way into the deep questions hes just aching to ask?!  _ “Hows your day?” _ Stupid! Stupid! 

Sans twists his head slightly. The corner of his eyes look at him, and then he rolls back to how he was before. The shift of bones rattles. “ ‘s fine.” Sans hisses. 

Reaper mouth twitches just a bit. That wasn’t a complete rejection! Evasive yes, but… it was something! Feeling bold, Reaper takes a tentative step forward. Then another. Tired eyes listlessly follow him. Watching him. Reaper is more than a bit nervous. But hes not sure why hes nervous. Is this monster intimidating him? No… so… why does he feel… himself shaking? 

He takes a seat down on the patch of dirt and offers Sans back his brothers scarf. Sans looks at it. Unmoving. It's troublesome to move now that hes gotten comfy. With a slight huff he reaches for the scarf. Fingers touching with Reapers again. The heat of it makes the God tremble. It's the briefest little touch. Gone in an instant. Sans holds the scarf to his chest, mumbling out the smallest of thank yous. 

It seizes his soul to hear that tiny whisper. Reaper sinks to his bottom, practically falling as his legs turn to jelly. Watching with fascination this delightful creature. _ “...so… you’re ...uh… living?”  _ He could smack himself.  _ “I mean… you’re not… incorporeal so… like. Do you uh?  _ **_Starve_ ** _?”  _ No wait.. Starve wasn't the word for living monsters…stupid  **-stupid** !  **Fffff** what was it?? _ “Like um… do you have … hunger??” _

Sans frowned at him, not understanding at all why this was important. Why was this useless death god still hanging around him? Was this some sort of…back up ritual he could still do if he answered? He thought about it for a moment. A good solid moment. His magic felt empty and he hadn’t eaten since the morning before he fought with the human. He didn't feel hungry exactly, but- “Yeah. I could eat.” It certainly would help him feel better-

oh? Sans’s eyes lit up at that thought. oh! It clicks in his head, filling him with the smallest glimmer of hope again. The reason the death god is asking, is to restore some Hp right? But… Sans didn't have anything to eat here. How would he-

_ “Would you… come to my place? To eat? Food?” _ Reaper blinks, nervous and ecstatic to finally ask something seemingly like an invitation. Inside his chest there's a little knot growing with the silence where an answer should come. Every second feels slow. He's so unsure about this. This was surely breaking the rules. Oh no, what was he doing?! He hides behind a tightly closed smile, feeling his neck stick to the back of his hooded robe. Was he sweating now?! Nooo! Did he  **_smell_ ** ? Oh stars… he never thought of that before!! Hygiene wasn't really top priority on his list when he waddled through monster dust every day. Reaper attempts a half sniff of himself, trying not to be obvious about it. 

“-Yes. I’ll try it.”

Reaper snaps his eyes back to the monster, trying not to show how nervous and giddy that answer made him. That placid smile he hid behind becomes less tense. His lower jaw unhinges and he smiles with relief. … But then grits his jaw again. Realizing nervously he doesn't know how to cook. He doesn't know what mortals eat. He’s seen Tori make salads… recreationally. With fire. He’s pretty sure that's not how cooking was supposed to go. He smiles at Sans, nerves dripping down his back. Trying not to show his distress as thousands of words pop in his head... 

Egg. Potato. Bread. Waffle. Carrot. Radish. Beer. Peas. Lettuce. Bacon. Mayo. Tomato. Cheese. Olives. Onions. Frog. Tuna. Turkey. Peppers. Salami. Noodles. Pizza. Tires. Crowbars!!!!?

He’s heard these things before mentioned in the mortal world but hasn't tried them. As a skeleton, food went right through him - heh… but … seriously. He … was bluffing quite hard here. 

Sans sat up. A bit of energy coming back to his bones. “So, you’ll take me to your place?”

Place…?

Reaper froze. Oh no. That was… a home that mortals had often designed as shelter.  _ “Yeeeeeeah” _ Reaper grins, the nervous bean, was doubly down in a lie now. His realm didn’t have anything like a … kitchen… or a roof. The gods lazed around in the moonlight and basked in the sunlight. They slept when they chose, but not from any real need of tiredness. There wasn't really a need for material possessions…

If he brought this half dead Sans back there… it was sure to cause a scene. He’d get in trouble for sure. He racks his brain for somewhere to go. He wasn't very close with much of the gods, cept for Life. Their work overlapped so he hung out with her lots. Faintly he recalls… a duo… who were guardians of something. They descended down into the mortal realm, but they were still gods. 

_ “Actually, let's drop by some friends.” _ Reaper tries. He reaches and misses for Sans’s hand. He tries again, visibly noticing Sans pull away. The third time he swings out his hand and reaches phalanges, definitely not letting go. He’s practically clinging to Sans by a pinky. _ “Good! Lets go!” _ He says excitedly, he points at a spot in the black void and a portal opens up through a hole in the wall. 

Sans is dubious about these powers and the useless deathgod beside him… but he has nothing else to do. So he steps through the portal, unsure what may be on the other side.


	5. Chapter 5

Sans winced as he entered this new portal. It was nothing like his shortcuts back home, these mini doorways through the multiverse sent a shiver of magic crawling through his bones. Air swelled around him as well, exuding summer heat. Cicadas hummed in the trees, the leaves rustled in the breeze, and the world was filled with ambient noise. He didn't realize how much he’d missed this. If he had to go back to the deafening quiet of the void he might go insane. 

Sans twisted his head to look around. Absorbing as much of his surroundings as possible while Reaper led him down a dirt trodden path. They were somewhere in the middle of a forest. But it wasn’t the deep thicket of a jungle, the scattered trees were on opposite sides of a little road. There were some lantern posts and random stones placed along the path.   
  
Overhead sunlight filtered through the branches. Warming his face with spackles of light. Sans closed his eyes and breathed in the hot summer air, letting himself be guided by the hand. 

A wonderful sound of chirping filled the air and the curious little skeleton snapped his head to treeline in search of the songbird. Eyes darting from branch to branch, looking for a spot of color. Hoping to hear it again, he held his breath. Now and then, the underground had the occasional pigeon and small finches, but it couldn't compare at all to the surface. The open air and large space had so much more freedom for life to thrive. New species migrating from different tropics. Reaper pulls him down the road and when he hears it again, the noise is far behind him. It's a small disappointment, but there is so much more to keep his attention. 

He spots wild deer grazing through the shifting treelines and butterflies and dragonflies flutter in the air together. His eye lights are blown wide when he spots a lil squirrel jump from a branch. This road was littered with tiny wildflowers. They weren't as magnificent as that garden he’d seen in the realm of the gods… but it was still a gorgeous sight. He’d never seen so many flower varieties like this underground. 

The first time he had seen any flowers in the underground was when he and Pap wandered too far from home. He remembered fondly how his lil bro, Paps, was shorter than him and missing his baby teeth. He followed Sans everywhere like a baby duckling. Pointing with awe at every new thing. He grabbed his little mittens and showed him how to tightly pack a snowball. And every time Paps would squish it and cry about the poof. Sans pat his head and made one for him. They rolled snowballs together, tumbling the little orbs down the road until they became so huge the two of them had to push to get it to roll. 

They must have gone far from home playing. Because they came across that wondrous blue flower that grew in Waterfall. It's petals glew with its own light, bouncing off the cavern walls. To their surprise it talked to them, mimicking their own voices. Sans joked with it and it echoed back. But Papyrus was more creative. He plucked a whole bunch and made a little wreath of flowers. With a toothless smile and beaming eyes he dropped it on Sans’s head and announced this was the gift for the bestest brother ever! 

Sans chuckled at the fond memory. He wished he could make a crown for Paps with these beautiful flowers. He would have been awe struck by these. Sans pinches the scarf against his chest.

In the distance was rolling hills and a grassy top mountain. But up ahead the trees started to thin out and reveal a small village. Cobblestoned houses and shacks with hay woven roofs lined around a circular plaza. Theres smoke coming up from chimneys and chickens roaming the streets.

Sans gets a bit excited to see how these monsters lived on the surface… but as Reaper guides him closer he can see humans passing by. A flash of Chara passes his eyesight. The child runs freely chasing a goat with a stick and Sans shivers at the sight. This wasnt them, he has to remind himself. Just some other brat. 

Reaper and him go by unnoticed by everyone… And Sans really does mean EVERYONE. People stare right through him as though he doesn't exist. Not a single person casts a strange glare at the two skeleton monsters suspiciously walking through a town of humans. Sure, reaper goes the extra step to avoid crowds and take the back roads through the village, but Sans feels truly invisible.

The reason so is because of where his fingers and Reapers are joined. For some reason the Death God seemed determined to hold his hand. Sans shrugs and figures this is why he was so adamant about it. His magic probably kept them both unseen to the living. That was very fortunate. Lucky. If one child could destroy the underground… Sans really doesn’t want to know what full grown adult humans would do to two outsiders. So he keeps up with Reapers pace, afraid of falling behind. Where was reaper taking him anyhow? They weren’t exactly slowing down... 

Off the end of the village between the church and the well theres an apple orchard where Sans bemuses how strange they look from the crabapples back home. He always expected apples to be that slightly reddish hue of raw meat, but on the surface they were different varieties of colors. How curious… 

“Oh... it's you.” Disdainfully, a voice scolds them. It comes from a hooded villager who emerges from the woods. On their back is a basket filled with heavy branches and logs. The stranger is hunched holding them all. Slouching makes his hood droop over his face, adding to his mystery. The stranger speaks again. Low and gravely. “Well if you’re here to kill that stupid hamster please do it away from us this time. I couldn't stop him from crying for a whole week.” 

Reaper at last stops moving and turns to the stranger with an unexpected warmth. _“Hey~! Long time no see pal!”_ He lets go of Sans’s hand and practically lunges on the stranger. Unbalancing him. The stranger growls- tsking his teeth together and sticks his arms out to prevent being toppled- while also pushing Reaper aside. He’ll have none of the God’s shenanigans today. His eyes were set on a different prize. The stranger turns towards Sans. “Oh? I see you brought your work with you huh? Finally, some good fucking food.”

Food? Sans fidgets. He’s not sure what this cannibal wants from him, but he’s definitely not a good meal! “Sorry pal… you can’t eat me, im all bones…. Heh…?” He gulps nervously, unconsciously holding his hands in front of his chest to protect what's left of his soul. 

Behind him Reaper is already floating near, not at all showing the same fear Sans feels. “Hey, I have to talk to you. It's important.” He waves for the stranger to some closer. Groaning the stranger slunk his backpack off and followed the Reaper just a yard of so down the path to speak privately. This defective reaper looped an arm around the stranger as they walked and talked. So much for ‘death's touch’. 

They had their backs turned to Sans as they spoke and he couldn't make out any whispers. So he waited awkwardly. With the reaper chit-chatting away that threatening aura, Sans felt a sigh of relief pass over him. Maybe he’d judged that human wrong. Slowly, he calmed down and released his hands from his chest. Come to think of it… his chest didn't feel so tight anymore. He actually… felt pretty good? When did that happen? Had he finally bled out so much that pain was numb? Heh? Sans touched a hand to his chest, over his scar wound. Surprised it didn't hurt at all to prod it. 

While Sans is busy, feeling himself up :) , Reaper is finishing his conversation in hushed hurried whispers. 

_“So yeah thats why we’re here. So…can we stay for dinner?”_

“...” Unamused. Annoyed. The hooded man scoffs. “... I see how it is. So you finally come out this way to see us and it's to use us for a damn date?”

“ _Noo~ it's uh… research?_ ” Reaper nervously chuckles. _“I mean... he’s still alive… and well… I couldn't bring him back home. Dad would be pissed… so I figured, well, you aren't talking to Dad much anymore and-.”_

“Fine. I’m in.” 

_“... wha- that fast? Really.”_

“Sure. Let's break a few rules.” He chuckles darkly. “But don’t tell Dream.”

He picks Reapers arm off of him and shoves him roughly. “And **dont** touch me _‘pal’_.” 

Reaper nodded, ecstatic to have gained a new party member to share his secret. 

The two turn around and look back at the half dead monster touching his wounds like some sort of masochist. He’s flicking away loose bone chips and flakes of blood. Disgustingly, covering the bottom of his shirt in the loose dandruff of dust. 

“... But first he needs a bath.” He leers at bloody mess and shredded clothes. “Your boyfriend is unsightly.” _“He’s not my-!!”_

Ignoring him, the stranger walks up to Sans and introduces himself properly this time. With a wave of gusto he pulls off his hood. Revealing himself. “I’m Night.” Yet another skeleton. Sans is not sure what to make of another stranger with his face. Should he even be surprised at this point? This copy of him had a purple glow of magic in his eyelights and wore a gold crown with a moon crescent on it. He was also… shorter than Sans. That was neat. Sans had never been taller than anyone before. 

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Sans-” “-Nope!” Night cuts him off. “Do you think I’m an idiot? Of course your Sans. I'm Sans! He's Sans! We don't use that name here.” 

“Oh...?” Sans rubbed the back of his head. He’s never gone by another name. Was this really some custom he should be aware of? He unzips his sweater a bit, trying to get comfortable in the summer heat, and thinks of a name. “Uh.. how about blue?” He wonders as he knots his sweater around his waist. 

Night rolls his eyes back into his skull. “There's already a Blue.”

Reaper joins them, floating by to take the hand of his precious treasure again. _“Don't be mean. He’s fresh from a genocide timeline. He doesn't know about the multiverse.”_

“Oh goody. I get to name him.” 

_“You?”_

“Why not? I’m good at these things.” Night hummed. He stroked his chin as though he was deep in thought but he already thought of a name. “Okay you’re Geno. Geno timeline. Geno name. Simple.” 

Sans frowns. That was a really insensitive name. He’d just lost everyone he cared about… Reaper is the first to step in on his behalf. _“Isn't that a bit-..?”_

“Tell it to someone who cares.” Night scoffs. “Now lets get cleaned up before Dream comes back. We can eat after.” 

Sans sighed, he couldn’t really argue with another supposed God. Besides, he could do with a bath. Having some hot water pour down his aching bones would relieve so much stress. He happily ignores the nickname so long as he gets some hospitality from these two. Night slugs down his heavy basket of wood next to a tree and leads them back into the woods. It's not very far. He can hear the whooshing of a river before it even comes into view. There is a trickle of a waterfall off the cliffside, too close to bathe in but fills an oasis of water that flows down to the valley below. 

The sight is breath taking. In the reflective sparkle of sunlight the water glistens like thousands of crystals. The water shimmers, so clear he could see the pebbles of rocks at the bottom. It wasn't quite the hot bath he wanted… but this place was just so beautiful, Sans didn't mind. He felt like his soul might be cleansed by washing up here. Unfortunately, the breath taking sight is immediately ruined by the two Gods casually stripping in front of him. 


	6. Chapter 6

The sudden reveal of pale bones and dim soul lights makes Sans avert his eyes in a panic. Hands fly up to his face so fast he practically smacks his eyesockets! It rattles his skull." W-what are you doing?!" He stammers whilst taking steps back. He trips over a log and falls to his ass with a painful thud up his tailbone. Chips of dirt gruff up his pants, but he still doesn't remove his protective hand blinds. 

"Taking a bath. You should too. You're covered in blood and dust." He’s not sure who said that.

Sans shook his head wildly. Its not that he hasn't seen naked bones before- he's taken tons of baths with his bro when they were younger- but as an adult it seemed inappropriate to simply strip with these strangers! "T-together??... Can't I go downstream? Or we can take turns?" He cant see them, but he can hear the threat from night as clear as day. 

"Get in the water or I'll drag you in." That definitely had been Night, the guy really had no patience at all. Sans felt his body do a full shiver. He rolled over to his elbows and pushed himself off the ground in a weird totter. “...Are you going to keep your eyes covered the whole time?”

Gosh, it sounded silly when someone said it like that >>. Sans gulped dryly, peeking through the gaps in his fingers. It's not as though the bodies were unfamiliar to him. It was his own physic on someone elses form. A bit jarring to look at…. but-

On Nights body he had large scars running down his back and bruises that were too new. They blossomed brightly with a dark purple and black hue that looked painful to the touch. There are a serious of bruises down his spine all the way to his hips and up on his wrists again. He sinks in the water and closes his eyes, the cool water a relief to the mar on his bones. 

The Reaper was naked too. Apparently he wore nothing under that robe and stripping was an easy event for him. His bones are pale and smooth. Chalky from his work. He swims into the water and aims for a deep spot to just sink down and let the water fill his skull. He sits on the bottom of the pool like that. Air bubbles escaping from the crevices of the back of his skull. 

Having seen everything already, Sans bravely removes his hands from his face. It's not the easiest… but he feels like an idiot being the only decent person among these brazen gods.They didn’t have much sense of boundaries. There had been no repercussions for them. No one to tell them where to sleep, how to dress, what to eat, how to behave… what basic decency is.

Cautiously Sans takes a step towards the rocky boundary of soil and water. He takes off his sweater around his hips and folds it on top of a log. He puts Paps scarf on top. Then he kicks off his shoes, one after the other. Balling up his socks so he wont loose them. Pap would be proud he just didn't throw them wherever. He sees the reapers robes thrown in a tree.. And nights cloak and tunic are crumpled in the ground. 

Reaper comes up for air. Making a huge splash that garners attention. He snaps his neck towards the noise, only to blush up brightly, forgetting about the nakedness of the skeleton. He can see his pelvic bone… 

Sans averts his gaze again. Turning to the forest. Gripping the bottom of his shirt nervously as he rolls it up. Layers of blood stick to the cloth. He has to peel it from his skin, more than lift it. But eventually he pulls the white shirt over his head and holds it in his hands, about to fold it… but thinks he might need to wash it instead. The arc of Charas blade is clear through the hole in the shirt and as a horrible decoration, his red blood coats the outline like a boarder. He crumples it to use as a sponge. Get them both clean at the same time. 

Lastly he trembles at the hem of his pants. … maybe he’d keep these on. He turns towards the water and sticks a toe in it. Lukewarm, the sun’s rays are hot and the cool water is a welcome reprieve from it. Sans takes a seat on the edge of the river and swings his legs in. Then his knees. He gets a little deeper each time, until it comes up to his ribs. 

He looks down… apprehensive about the water splashing against his mangled ribcage. Hes sure it will sting like a bitch. Slowly Sans eased into the water. It came up to his ribs, then his chest. At last its at his shoulders and he sighed. Relaxing into the water without fear. 

“Hey Geno,” That wasn’t his name. “How long have you been half dead?” 

“Um..” Is this really normal conversation? “...two days? ” 

“Wow... 2 whole days with that gash? No wonder you're so negative. It's rare I get such a banquet.” 

“Banquet-??” He’s talking to Night, but doesn’t bother asking the newcomer. He’s been nothing but rude and Sans would have better luck with the reaper. So he directs the question to him with a look. Not that it helps. It only catches his attention. Night still goes on. 

“The meals I get in town. They’re okay. Hatred. Anger. It's so bitter. But pain is a unique flavor of its own.”

Sans tried to follow along with a slight nod. Oh okay. So this friend of the death god’s was some sort of …. God of pain? That made sense, if he thought about it. The guy mentioned eating him earlier and the pain in his ribcage is practically non existent. He would certainly make a useful ally in the future. Still, he cant help but eye the bruises littering his bones. “... so thats why your hurt yourself? To uh- eat?”

“Hurt myself?” He practically laughs at the ridiculousness of that. Though his outward appearance would hint towards that possibility. He takes in a good look at himself, before suddenly becoming self conscious. Sinking a little deeper under the water. “...I didn’t do that.” He scoffs. Eyes averted. “Anytime I get near the town, they'll chase me out or … find ways to make my stay very unpleasant…” He frowns at his own reflection. His chirpy sarcastic voice suddenly become dark as he mulls in violent thoughts. “Honestly I think if Dream wasn't with me I’d strangle them all... "

“What was that?” Reaper, smiley faced, knocked out water from his skull. Tilting his head forward to let it drain from his eye sockets like some sort of fool. 

“Nothing interesting.” Night twiddles his finger along the surface of the water, flicking small splashes in reapers direction. “My brothers in town buying some groceries. They adore him. He’ll be back soon enough. So hurry and wash up.” 

Sans headed the advice. This was the only chance in days he’d been able to wash up so he took his shirt and rubbed it as a cleansing cloth across his bones. There were pieces of dust and flakes of blood that disgustingly came off and left polished bone in their wake. He felt refreshed and lighter after scrubbing away all the sweat and blood. But he had some curious stains too. The dust, he expected. The blood, it was everywhere. But what confused him was splotches of a black char staining his bones. He scrubbed and scrubbed… but it didn’t come off. 

Well… it wasn't the weirdest thing going on with his body. The water around him started to turn pinkish with the endless fountain of blood leaking out. Luckily the river washes it downstream… and the two upstream splash around and don't see the bloody mess. 


	7. Chapter 7

Reaper is having a really good day. He’s just jazzed to be here honestly.   
Normally his waking hours for work are all moody and depressing.   
Go over here. Convince a soul to leave. Take them with you. Judge them. Baddies go here, goodies go here. Ugg…. he was tired of being a delivery boy. Not to mention it was extremely lonely work. 

The few times he’d seen another god on his patrol were when both life and death were present. He saw Tori sometimes in hospitals when babies in the east wing are being brought into this world at the same time monsters on the right wing of the hospital were leaving it. Sometimes they got the double pleasure of being in the same room together. A mother dying as the child began breathing it's first lungful of air. 

Considerate, Reaper let the motherly ghosts linger on for a while. Enough to see their child's face. Say a quick goodbye. Cry. 

...In the end he always had to do the tough job of separating them. 

He wonders when he got numb to the departure and final wishes of the living. Did he just stop caring one day? Or was he always like this?… emotionless? A machine to do a task. 

After long shifts of dealing with stiffs, he’d finally get back home. Just in time to see Papyrus waking up. It’s his brother… but not someone he knows or has ever had a lengthy conversation with. Brother only in name. They high five to trade places. Morning shift and night shift. 

Then Reaper falls asleep in the sooty dead grass that acts as the marker between their corner of the world and the rest of the gods. Sometimes he slept lying down on his stomach. Exhausted and loathing the workload for tomorrow. Then there were those rare times he would glance up at the stars. Every constellation had a pair. Every twinkling star had a wondrous story to go with it. He would count them until he fell asleep. 

It was busy work.

He couldn't remember when he’d ever taken a break. Was this the first time? He wondered about that. Surely there must have been some days when he took a vacation. But he can’t think of a single time. He never had anyone to hang out with before. 

This was… nice. 

Before, he’d only seen Night and Dream at meetings. After they were sent to watch over the tree, he saw them a lot less. The two are like extended family to him. He knows they exist… but they’re essentially strangers. He stopped by once to kill their pet and it sounded like feelings were pretty sour still. 

He looks at Night, who is dressing nearby. He throws on his same purple tunic and is fussing around with the belt.The god was living among mortals. He could think of no one better to help prepare some twigs… or leaves… or whatever the heck monsters ate for nourishment. Reaper’s just glad he went along with this dinner date whim and was helping him out. 

Because the other skeleton with him- the freshly undead Sans they might be nicknaming Geno- was someone deeply fascinating. He could touch him. Sure, he could touch other gods, but they were like his family. And while most of the multiverse might be fine with that kind of incestual thoughts… Reaper could never imagine touching his Papyrus. He couldn't honestly imagine touching anyone really. It just never occurred to him. The warmth of another hand was something he never knew he needed until he touched those brittle fingers.

He buzzed around Sans. The new experience of a thing like him…. Was fascinating. Not dead. Not alive. Able to hear him. Able to touch him. …

If Reaper believed in fate he’d say this was someone made for him. A match made in heaven. But… he’s a bit wiser than that to believe Gaster would arrange some warped fate like that. 

The idiot came back to shore, with a pair of soggy wet pants weighing him down. A balled up wet shirt wrung out in his fists. The only thing dry was his socks and jacket which he’d taken off earlier. Reaper watched in amusement as the skeleton fumbled about… trying to dress in the combo of clothes. With a sigh, he wore the damp clothes to dry out naturally in the summer heat. 

The three headed back to camp, following Night’s lead as he snaked through the forest. Led by the wonderful smell, they saw the roasting of a campfire in the distance where another skeleton was poking at the logs. 

Sans tut his teeth upon seeing another copy with his face. This should be normal by now. He should just roll with it. This yellow copy was short as well. Cheery with a youthful beaming. 

“Night!” He gleefully waves at his brother, only to stop midway. “...reaper..” He tuts his teeth. His starry eyes become a little dim. Fearing the worst for his pets. Theres also a third tag along that he spots, but it's a new face, hah. He’s not sure what this Sans was like. 

Night introduces them. “Reaps and Geno are just staying for dinner.” He sits by the campfire to warm up his bones. “They’re my guests tonight.” 

“Oh! Good! The villagers gave me lots of extra fish this evening.” He holds out the wad of death, five fish strung up by their tails. Reaper makes a disgusted face. He didn’t expect the living to consume dead things… don’t they… eat natural stuff? Twigs… dirt?... He saw Night carrying that huge stack of lumber. What the heck was that for? 

He watches as they careless chuck the logs into the fire. So wasteful. He tuts his teeth. 

“Do you need help preparing those?” Geno chimes up. “P-... I used to do it all the time back home.” 

“Sure!” Dream and Geno begin to descale the fish. Cooking together to make some amalgamation of ‘food’. Reaper confusingly watches as they pull out the bones and guts and add it to the boiling water. A pungent aroma wafts into his skull. They slice up the meat of the fish and skewer it above the fire. He worries the two gods have picked up some strange habits in the living world. But then he looks at Geno… and he’s smiling. 

When everything is done cooking the four sit around the campfire and everyone shares bowls of this rancid smelling death meal. Night passes him a skewer. Geno is famished, glad for the food and thanks them for the meal before taking a bite of flesh. Tearing the meat off the stick. Dream slurps at his soup, ingesting the broth of organs and ground up herbs. 

Death shivers. But all around him everyone is eating… and here he sits with a bowl in one hand and a fish skewer in the other. He feels a little stupid not to join in… even if their ritual was… disgusting. He’ll just take a bite. A small bite to fit in. 

He brings the meat to his teeth, surprised a bit it doesn't corrode in his mouth like fruits. ...He expects the salty ashen charred dust from the dead… but instead he gets a mouthful of flavor. The skin is crisp and the fish is soft and moist. It's grilled in it's own juices and marinated by those herbs… even though they’re gone the flavor of it still stays. He gulps down his first bite and doesn't hate it. In fact… it's… delicious. 

Geno notices his health isn’t improving and is a bit disappointed, but he’s hungry and the meal was a welcome treat. He eats the hot meal. Feeling his eyes start to tear up from the steam and the sniffles in the back of his throat well up. He remembers cold snowdin nights when he and pap went ice fishing and roasted in their own backyard. It was different from the cool summer breeze that rolls through this valley. 

When the meal is done. Reaper thanks the brothers for their hospitality. Dream still doesn't wanna talk to him, but says goodbye to Geno. Night on the other hand, wishes him farewell and goodluck with a nudge on the shoulder. 

He opens a portal back to that black void in space. The place where only a patch of grass lays. Geno stares at it, in a depression. “Time for me to go back huh?”

“... With luck, you’ll die in your sleep.” Reaper nods. “You can’t avoid it forever.” 

Geno chuckles. He steps through the gate. “You’ll pick me up tomorrow?”

“Of course.” Reaper smiles. He sends Geno home and goes back to his place in the realm of the gods. Papyrus is absent, having taken his shift for today. Reap wants to apologize to him, but he’ll make it up by switching shifts. He takes his rest now, knowing he’ll need to wake in a couple hours.   
….  
As soon as Geno steps through the portal he’s hit with a surge of his own negative pangs. A wave of nausea hits him first and the gash in his chest bleeds like the damn has broken. Now that Night wasn’t passively feeding on his negativity, the feelings all came at once again. He stumbles to his little patch in the ground and mumbles a woohoo. Guess this is his new normal now. … bleeding to death.

He stares up at the blank void and clutches paps scarf in his arms. Hopefully Reaper was right. Maybe this would be the end soon and he would see Papyrus. 

A flicker of static in the distance reminds him of thunder. The sound of static sounds like rain. He closes his eyes and tries to imagine coming back home. When he falls asleep, he doesn’t dream. His mind just recedes back to a white cloud of noise. He hears whispers in the dark. Some are his own thoughts… but others… ? He’s not sure who is whispering.


	8. Dramatic Backstory ;)

Sans woke to the quiet emptiness of his new home. This was becoming tiring. He stared down at his injury today. Yup. Still bloody as ever. It’s upsetting how much he’s bleeding out. Will this ever stop? He sat up, feeling heavy. He wanted to sag down and lie in the grassy bed again. Just waste a day sleeping.

Ya know ? Why not? He had nothing else to do. He took a look around, checking to see if Reaper was here today. Guess he still had some time. He closed his eyes and went back to sleep. Trying to ignore the waking pain raking his ribs. Maybe if he just lied still the pain would fade back into dreams.

  
How long did he rest? Ten minutes? Ten hours? He didn’t feel rested even as he woke up.

  
  
  


[̴̢͖̩͙͓̩̟̖͇͇̣̯͚̬̩̃͌̽̈1̵̟̩̪̫͒̾̏͑͐̎͜͝0̵͚̗͍̼̱̝̘̼̅̎͝6̵̢͈̞̭̱̘̮̬̞̖͖̞̮̬̐]̴̧̼̪̤͍͒͑̓̆͛͆͌͐̚͝[̸̗̮̳̤͖̱̜̄̑̈́͌̎͌̂̈́͘1̴̢͔̦͉͈̺̟̍̇͒͆̉͋̇͌̑̕͝0̸̧̧̢͔͉͈̞̰̗̻͈͙̺͗̌͋͛͋̂͋̊̒̈̅͠7̷͉̬̟͓̱͛͠]̵̜̞̹̫̱̫̜̯̰̞́̀̈̆̄̇̏́͌́̍͜͝ͅ

  
  
  


Sans jumped to his feet, readying a bone weapon to his hand. What good would it be right? There was nothing that could kill him… and there was nothing that could enter this void except Death. So what the heck was that sound? “Is...someone there?” Sans called out into the darkness. He retreated a bit back onto his glowing platform of safety. The patch of grass was the only thing distinguished from the black emptiness.

  
  


ḑ̸̨͔͉̠̱̱̪̖͉̲͈̥̻̌͒̓̃̂͆̇̎̊̀́͒̌i̵̡̮̗̞̜̼͖̓͗̀͋͂̇̈ͅn̶̢̩̺̱͈̫̪͚͓̖̗̔͌͗̾̏̚o̸̭̗̣̥̮̔̀͒͌͌̕̕̚ ̴̺̠͙̐͛̋̈̎̄͗̏̾̇e̵͉̩̺̩̰̙͖͔̔̋͆̃̈́͘̚ͅg̸̨̡̛̣̦̩͓̘̼͙̞͈̟̠̗̘̀͆͊̅̎̿̔̽͒̈͌͋̑͋g̸̨͍̱̣̺̱͕̈́̇͊͑̾͛͜͠

  
  


Now he knew he was hearing things. What the heck kind of font font was that? Was there another skeleton somewhere? Pap? It didn’t look like something Pap would say or use. Was it the speech of a human? … He never heard Chara talk. They had that blank face that never changed. Never spoke. “...Chara?” He asked the cold void. He really hoped his killer wasn’t here. That distorted voice scared him a bit.

He waited for something to emerge from the darkness. Some discernible shadow or shape. What time was it? How could he keep track of time here? He counted in his head. Starting just a minute at a time. Waiting again for whatever voice in the dark to speak. Like counting the strikes in between thunder, he let the numbers consume his mind, staring out at the dark for the next bolt.

  
  


Į̷̨̢̛̛̠̜̯̟̖̲̠̮̰͈͔͗̌͗̋̑̒̚̕͠ͅ ̶̡̨̥̻̝͉͎̙̘͈̖̊̋̓̒͆̓͋̆̃͋͠w̸̨̠̤̪̣̻̤̳̗̯̩̫̎̇̂̓̄a̵̡̧̢̛̻̳̱̪͕͇̜̗̟͈̔̋̿̍͐̌͌͘͝n̸͖̟͔̭̣͉̯̖̭̆̓͘t̸̛̳̹̣̝̙̦̖̘͂̆̓͊̈̋́̈́ͅ ̶̢̪̘̤̪͈͍̹͇͇̓͂̚t̵̡̟̖̟͉̻̳̩̤͓͈̞͛̆͗̚͜h̶̛̳͙̣̮̲̙͕̻̲̫̝͙̝̓̃͜ą̷̱͇̍̑͗̋̔̇̌̈́̑̌̋͊̚t̵̡̨̛̝̪̟̏͑̄͑̒̔̓̈́̆͂̌̊̾ ̶͇́̽̉̌̈́̂̕d̴̞̅̏̆͝a̷̧̙̜͖̻͎̦̩̙͆̇͒̍̆͆̓̕m̷͚̮̼̻̻͚̄͑n̶̛̺̰̎̉̌̓͛ ̸͖͎̏̍͌̎̓͆̓͝e̶͕̓͒͐̅̂g̸̨̛̘̿ģ̵͔̫̭͙͖̱̝̼͎̗͊̆   
  


What nonsense was it spewing? Was it trying to communicate? It didn’t sound like it. Sans curled into himself and anxiously restarted his count. Wondering how long until the next voice. He jumped a little when it appeared behind him. He spun quickly, waving a barrage of attacks at the sound, but nothing is there.    
  
  


f̴̡̡̨̡͖͚̗̞̣͓̹̭̲̪̦́̆̈́̋͒͆̂̄̑̐͛̇́̚ų̷̧̙̠̺̖̮̺̪̰̼̱̞̼͒̎́͗̍͗̍̃͋͜͝͝c̷̡̢̺̹̪̻͇̠̤̝̘̐͗ͅͅk̴̗͖͐̈́̄͠ͅi̶̝̮͛̏n̵̫̯̤̟̭̰̩̺͔̲̏͂͑ͅğ̸̙̭̺͊̐͒̓ ̶̹̥͓̪͈͚̭̘̟̀̒̂̌̓̚f̴̡̢̣̗̟̜͆̉̇͗̆̋͗̿̽́̕͝į̷̛̩͉͍̻͇͙̰̟̣̩̱̏͐̇͑̅̔̏̾̃̓͆̈̚͜ͅn̴̦̠̖͉͑̊̒̓̆͊ȧ̴̢̨̱̺̬̣̟͔̏̈̈́̽̎͜͜͜l̷̝̻̭̇͌̽̃̉͌l̵̡̡̛̛͈͓̠̗̯̯̦̱͔̹͊̔̄͆̋̾͗̈́̈́͘͝ͅy̸̹͉͐̋̅̌̅͌̾̾̽̌͗̒̏!̶̹̣̬̘͍̠͎̜̣̻̱̦̗̔̒̌͘̕ ̵̧͔̳͎̥͉̖̮͔̞͕̏̈N̷̖̮̼͉̞̅̔̏̏̔͐͗̓̀͆̐͠͠͠͠o̷̪̲̖̱̼̫̘̖͙͎̼̯͛̋w̶̛͚̺̫͈̩͍̼̄̉̓̇̌̓ ̴̢̛̪̯̩̳͚̜̩̻̞͇̫̫̋̑͒͒͋̐͜ͅI̵̻̫͈̻͓̓̐̿ ̵̛͇̟̘̻͎̞̐̓̈́̉͊̋̔̂͗ç̵̡̤̪̩͕͖̣̠͆̍́͛a̷̧̪̣̾̏͆̉̓̈̍̅̕ṅ̶̛̰͖̞͛͛̌̾͘̚̕͝ͅ ̸͚̭̭͇̺̰͔̯̖͚͎͈̣̘́͑͒͂̃̿̊͝ğ̸̨̢̛̘͎͓̞̬͕̞͙̭̝̍͑̇̾́ͅe̸̡͍̦̤̩͎̣̼͓̻̅̈́̌̑͜t̶͈̫̥̤͐͒͛ ̶̡̳̩̫̞͉͇̼̗̫͎̆̾͑̈́̓̀̋Ḑ̸̢̯̯̰̥͈̼̠̦͔͔͕̽̅̄̽͊̈́̋̎̀̉͌ͅi̴̡̨̺̩̙̫̰̙͈͓͐̐̐̑͊̀͆͐n̸̜̥̣̘̝̮̫̘͔̳̬̠̥͋̋̄͘͘õ̶̢̡̡̢͖͓͎̻͚̘̋͆̂ ̵̥̀̌̈́̏͆̓͠M̶̗̙̦̖̰͙̩̮̬͎͌̓̈̇́̌͆̔͊̕͜͠ą̸͈̯̆̎̋͐ẏ̶̺̭̼͗́̃́̈̅̾͗o̷̪̖̬͎̗̮̫͍̅͑̚!̸̛͖̜̐͗̈́̇̃͆̇̒́ ̸̡̳̫̙̩̞̝̹̭̌̊̿͗̈̎͋̑͌͐̎͌͘͝͝(̷̡̧̛̯͈̜̠͇̭̎̀̏͊͊͌̓͆͊͋̿̚͝ǫ̶͈͙̝̻̱̱̲̖̼̘̣͜͝w̶͚̲͕̾̓̇͐́͑̚͝͠ō̵̧̧̨̻̫͇͓͓̟̟̯͊̉̀̎̉͆̎̎)̸̡̧̺͌̓̋̈͒̚!̴̨̺̓̄̉̿͂͝͝!̷̨̛͙̯̜̠̣̭͈̫̥̲́̽̓̀͒͂̓̔͂͂̚!̸̺̳̙͎͖̣͈̖͍̦̏̓̑̕

  
  
  


Sans hadn’t the slightest idea what it was saying. Did they just curse? What was that bit at the end? Emotion? …. Represented in text…? Yet… in his head. Why?

_ “Heya glitchy.” _ Reaper waved a hand in his face. Clearing away the scrawl of black text. Sans jumped back. Holy Stars. How long was Reaper here?! He didn’t even see the God enter. What was in his eyes? Sans rubbed the corner of his eye sockets. Feeling a heavy glop of something in the back of his skull. What the heck?

_ “Ya ready for our date?” _ Reaper snickered. “ _ You have a date with death. Isn't this nice? Hehe. I’ve been studying up on your living habits and stuff. I thought today we’d visit a ‘toilet’, sound cool to you?” _

Sans was kinda …. Not ready for this today. He stared at the God, but still rubbed at his eye sockets. Did he just say toilet? Regardless, Sans nodded his head enthusiastically. Anywhere was better than this hell hole! “YEs. yes. Please.” He tried not to sound too dramatic.

Reaper opened up a portal somewhere, the bright light of ‘outside’ filtering into this space. His eyelights didn’t need to adjust to see the other side, he just wanted to go through as soon as possible. This place was messing with his head.

~~~

Where were they now? Sans stands frigid in the snow. This was so unlike the hot summer surface from last night. He shivered into himself, eyelight still adjusting. He opened his mouth to ask Reaper where they were but a cold wind made his teeth chitter.

_ “Welcome to Underswap~!” _ Reaper waves his palm out towards the empty snow banks like it was a brand new car he’d won. Sans was unimpressed. He shivered. Oh stars it's fucking cold. His jacket isn’t helpful at all, the wind blows right through him. Seemingly the God was unbothered by the cold. He was barefoot and only wearing that black silk robe. Probably nothing underneath.

Sans doesn't want to have to point out the obvious to him but the guy seems oblivious. “Uh… it's awfully cold? Isn't it?” Sans tries to nudge. He brushes snow off his shoulders before he becomes buried in this storm.

_ “Yeah… hehehe… I may have missed. I only tend to teleport to dead things…. I guess something in these woods died.”  _ Reaper hums, floating around to search. He peeks behind a bush.  _ “Oh, here we are. Hi Blue~” _

Sans shivered, turning around to get a look at this ‘Blue’. He remembered that name being mentioned yesterday. No doubt it would be another twin. He took heavy stomps in the snow and tried to follow where Reaper was standing. Left leg. Right leg. His knees were getting numb in this high snow. If he wasn't careful he was going to trip. Sans eventually came close to where the others were gathered.

The first thing he sees is the beautiful bright red color of flowers sprinkled in the snow. Then the ashen color of gray. Blue is buried in the snow. His head just peeking out and-

-bodyless.

Sans jumps back, covering his mouth to prevent himself from retching at the sight. A decapitated monster was bleeding in the snow! The body was already dust and the skull… just clinging to life. The eyelights were like blue stars… but dim. Oh so dim. Reaper has no reaction at all to the gorey sight.

_ “Oh, don't worry.”  _ Reaper sing songs. _ “Blue does this sometimes. He’s such a prankster.” _

Prankster? Sans tries to avert his eyes from the bloody scene on the ground. He can’t imagine this is part of a set. He knows better than anyone what blood looks like. There are broken bone fragments dusting away in the winter wind. And the skull itself is rolled on its side. There’s clearly no monster from the neck down. No smoke and mirrors here. He hates looking at it. It's just too similar to how Pap died. He’s still not sure how to process the recent lost. … Looks like a copy cat killer was on a murdering spree here too.

He wraps his brothers scarf around his neck just as a icy wind blows past him again. Reaper taps the skull with his fingertip, and the monster immediately fades to dust. It's just instant. The wind carries some loose pieces the rest mixes and melts with the snow, still warm. Reaper holds out his hand, showing off to his new boyfriend.

Sans averts his gaze at first, he’s not sure what fresh horror the Reaper is excited about showing him. His callous outlook on death was very disturbing…. But eventually Sans steels himself to look. There is a small white light hovering in Reapers palm. It looks no bigger than a firefly. It leaves reapers palm and floats away …. Soaking down into the very fabric of this world. Sans watches in awe as the bug fits in line with a row of text.

... .̸.̶.̶ ̸c̵o̴n̷t̴i̸n̷u̴e̸;̶ ̵p̸r̷i̶n̷t̴f̸(̵"̸%̶d̵\̷n̷"̴,̴ ̵n̴b̵)̴;̸}̶}̶

It fades away. Looks blurry.

_ “Blue’s world is in the middle of a reset. That means Stretch is in the judgement hall, so we should be able to use their house for a bit.”  _ Sans shudders. Was it really okay to use another monsters house when they were dead? Wasn’t there a certain morality involved with what was right or wrong to do while a monster was grieving and-

The harsh wind blows again, knocking a lump of snow off a tree limb and right on top of Sans. He shivers. Colder than ever. “...Lead the way death lorde.”

~~~

The inside of the house was so freaking cozy and  **warm!!!** Sans collapsed right outside the front door. Apologizing about the blood stain on the carpet, but stars his fingertips were numb.If they were outside any longer Sans might double die. Freezing out there.

If there was any bright side to this it was that his scar doesn't hurt so much. But instead every other part of him was getting frostbite. It was not a tradeoff he wanted. He eyes a fireplace in the living room and immediately scoots his butt over to it. **Oh ~ yes! So warm~**

He stuck his hands outward and held it to the warmth emitting from the fire place. The heat ran up his fingers and up his arms and  _ -oh- _ he could feel the frost just melting off him. Warmth was settling back in his bones like an old friend. He felt a tingle of numbness spread out over his limbs. He stretched out his palms towards the fire.

A pair of hands join him. Mimicking him. Sans glares at the hand, following up the arms to the person sitting way to close to him. Reaper smiles innocently enough. He’s trying to copy whatever strange fire praising ritual this was. Sans glares at him. “You don't even get cold do you.”

_ “No… but this looks fun!” _ Reaper grins.

Sans grumbles. Whatever, it's not like he was getting any colder being here. Now that his body temperature was returning somewhat to normal, he looks around the house they rudely barged into. He knew it from the outside it mirrored his own. There were some differences, excessive gyftmas lights and stickers in the windows. Reaper had easily floated through the door and unlocked it from the inside. Truly creepy.

Like he thought, this house was just like his own. Same lumpy sofa and tacky carpeting. But there were different picture frames hanging on the walls. Macaroni pictures and a tall Papyrus wearing an orange hoodie. His own face is also there. Starry eyelights smiling. Short as ever. There was the faint linger of something in the kitchen recently cooked. Sans wouldn't put it past himself to raid the kitchen later. Not like the dead him was gonna use it.

Toys were scattered in the hall and up the stairs. By the door looked like there was a countdown calendar… today it was on 0.

This felt a little wrong to be in a house that looked so similar to his own. It felt wrong that his face was plastered on picture frames. It felt off that the grimm reaper himself had his face. A couple days ago he had chalked it up to- bleeding out and delirious. But uh… he was still alive and these weird occurrences were becoming more and more normal.

“So… you're Sans?” Sans felt weird about saying his own name. Maybe this was how Night felt when he insisted on nicknames.

_ “Yup” _

“And… I met your brother.. Who is also a Papyrus.”

_ “Yup.” _

“Night and Dream… they were also… Me.”

_ “Yup.” _

“...” As helpful as Reaper thought he was being, this wasn’t actually explaining anything. “Is there … a reason the whole universe is … us? “

_ “Oh! Yeah. The creators did something like that. One of us can actually talk to the creators, I’ll let you meet them one day.” _

“I don't think i’d get along with these... ‘ _ Sans’  _ copies as easy as you do.” Sans rolled his eyes. “This is all… awfully…  **weird** isn’t it? … Shouldn’t there just be … ya know.  **One?** Why… are all these copies everywhere?”

Reaper tries to think about it.  _ “Maybe the creators are really attached to the original. It’s hard to let go a friend… so you know…. They made replacements they can play with.”  _ __  
__  
“Play?” Sans grits his teeth. “-Like… toys? My brother was killed because these…’creators’ were playing!?”

_ “Dramatic backstory.” _ Reaper shrugs.  _ “But it's okay. You’re here now. And guess what~!” _ He grabs Sans’s hands impulsively. “ _ I can touch you!” _ He smiles, so eager about something simple. But Sans doesn't have his same enthusiasm. This was a lot to put on him all at once. He backs up. Pulling his hand away and covers his mouth. The awful truth made him want to gag.

He ran to the kitchen sink, it's closer. 


End file.
